Important words (you understand it's love the first time you say no)
by starshine
Summary: He'd be content to leave the past well enough alone. Too bad that Skye is under some strange conviction that if she makes enough balancing, she'll convince Coulson and Grant to play along. It'll never work, he knows, because half of the hate on Coulson's part is subconscious seething about the fact that Grant took Skye away from him. Last part in "Who they become" series.


The early spring sun wasn't very hot, but it was bright enough to filter through the foliage and the kitchen window and throw cheerful, bright patterns onto the tiny cooking surface. What was still left of snow was disappearing fast, sending rivulets of water down the hill toward the small river that supplied water to the house. Even the damn birds were in full celebration, chirping and hooting and singing. Ward heaved a big sigh at the unfortunate and untimely enthusiasm of nature, finished cutting the salad and turned to the tiny stove to poke at the three steaks with a lot more force that necessary.

It was shaping to be one disaster of a day, and what was worse - no matter how he turned it around, he came back to the same conclusion. It was Skye's fault. It was a hundred percent Skye's fault, and he... Well, he might as well admit that he resented the hell out of it - of her - to the point of wondering whether he should have just left her to do the lunch and entertain her guest and gone for a long walk into the wilderness. Slept on the last vestiges of snow, gazed up at the stars, came back tomorrow after Coulson was long gone.

He'd camped out in the snowy wilderness before, though not quite in these mountains. He could do it again. He sort of wanted to, if only to make the point Skye seemed to have completely missed... again. This place - the small cabin in the woods - was his sanctuary. He'd build it himself, not from misshapen wood but from state of the art materials this time. Not because he had nothing else to do and nowhere else to hide, but because he'd wanted to. It still took him a similar time to complete - the better part of three months, but then he hadn't been in any hurry this time. It had felt good, and weird at the same time. He had been reworking with his hands a part of his life that he was loath to think about heads on, that much he knew without any shrink having to tell him so. The mix of fear and affection, betrayal and trust, frozen terror and fond memories put him on edge when he tried to reflect on his time alone in the woods under Garrett, but remaking the things that he remembered fondly - the calmness and the dignified silence of the wilderness, the safety that came with absence of other people, the accomplishment of making something to call his own - gave him a sense of calmness that he'd welcomed.

He'd told Kara about the project before he even started - later he'd sent pictures, even -, but Skye had been the first to see the place with her own eyes. She had followed the instructions and rolled up to the clear in her sparklingly new van loaded with electronic equipment. Even here, in the middle of nowhere, she still managed to stay connected to the world.

That day had been the first day they'd fought as a pair. As hopeful friends orbiting around each other, hoping for more. As... something. Ever since that New Year party back at Sharm-el-Sheik Ward had felt like a string had been cut from someplace inside of him. He felt... Softer, somehow. Like the hatred and the violence had overflown and achieved nothing, and in their wake he had learned to yield and let go. Skye had learned the same, it seemed. She'd consistently pass on every opportunity for sharp remark, every criticism, every hurtful comment. It made everything so much easier and lighter and, funnily enough, for a while they both found that it suited them, this exhausted and lazy side by side existence. It softened the edges on both of them until they stopped cutting each other merely by coexisting. And then - then they'd discovered the sanctuary of touch. Not the sexual kind but the soft, casual one, sitting side by side for hours with their shoulders touching. He thought about it sometimes - just how hurt they both had been at the time, to hold each other and not even want to take it any further.

And then he'd showed her the cabin in the woods. She'd liked it - for a given degree of liking a city girl could profess to a remote wild forest. The cabin had all the amenities one could hope for, though. There was an open kitchen with a tiny living area and a sleeping room, and even a complete bathroom with hot shower courtesy of some creative green energy solutions. Skye had pocked around, touched everything, pulled on every wire and plank and finished by plopping onto the bed.

"A little bit small, don't you think? If you wanted to impress me, you should've gone with a king size... At least."

She had been smiling widely. Patting the bed in an inviting gesture, all but winking at him. And he... He... Just like that, out of the blue, he'd felt so incredibly angry. On the surface, it didn't make an ounce of sense. He should have been over the moon. He should have run with it.

"I didn't do any of this for you," he'd answered instead.

A big part of him cringed, but a bigger part felt good. Felt right, because the words were completely true. He hadn't built the place for Skye. For them. He'd done it for himself, to put his ghosts to rest, and for her to assume so carelessly and to take possession of something so intimate - it grated on him in unexpected and uncontrollable ways.

"I did this for myself," he said curtly, not bothering to explain further because he fully expected Skye to be her volatile, quickly offended self, to take offense and to hightail out of there. He found that while he did quite care, the need to hold onto the little things that were entirely his own did overrule the need to make nice.

To her eternal credit Skye didn't take offense, just wilted a bit and made her way out of the cabin. Both spent the afternoon alone - she coding in her van and Grant working on some minor electrical details. Come dinner time she knocked on the cabin door and waving two beers at him, but didn't come in as long as he didn't give the invitation.

They ended having dinner in her van, even though Ward's own beers were colder and fancier (he may have built the place thinking primarily of himself, but he'd stocked up specially for her). He never explained why he'd given her the cold shoulder so suddenly, and she never commented on it, and sometime during that night everything was made alright again. He'd showed her how to extend the be the next day - he wasn't stupid or unpractical or a goddamned monk. Things got pretty wonderful after that, and kept on being wonderful for quite some time.

Until she had to go and give the coordinates to Coulson. Coulson, of all people. He'd requested a meeting and did she offer him a coffee shop? A base? Hell, a virtual chat room? No. She'd set a meeting at Grant's highly secretive, handmade, known only to them both and Kara cabin. And now he's pissed beyond belief and having to hide it, because the only thing worse than Coulson coming to his sanctuary would be Coulson realizing Grant is pissed off about it.

The sound of the engine outside dies away, and he can hear muffled conversation. Skye's using her enthusiastic voice, which he knows to be fake most of the time. It's not like she and SHIELD are fast friends anymore. In fact, this meeting is the first tepid attempt at reconciliation in a year. Skye still resents the hell out of Coulson - not for shunning her after she developed her powers but for making her the princess in the tower, the exception to every hideous rule SHIELD ever had in dealing with gifted. Yet Grant also knows that she still craves the man's approval in ways she'll probably never shake. And why should she? The man might have taught her things that made her callous and cold and might have changed her forever in some ways, but he never beat the crap out of her. He'd never tried to make her shoot puppies in cold blood.

Coulson's no Garrett, Grant knows. He's not a monster and he cares and Skye could have had it so much worse. She could have become what Grant has been for more than fifteen years. He doesn't like to even think about it. Skye? She loves to talk it out. Count misdeeds, lies told, lives taken. Her own, first and foremost, but also his. And Coulson's. Even May's. Her eternal point is that nobody is better than anybody else - they all have blood under their skins. Grant knows that it's her way to cope, her way to ease them both. It doesn't work with him - he'd be content to leave the past well enough alone. Forget his time with John, forget his time with Coulson, live just the present. Too bad that Skye is under some strange conviction that if she makes enough balancing, she'll convince Coulson and Grant to play along. It'll never work, he knows, because half of the hate on Coulson's part is subconscious seething about the fact that Grant took Skye away from him.

As long as that stays true, Grant will happily endure.

Skye and Coulson make it inside the cabin. The man is wearing one of his trademark suits despite the extremely long drive. Skye walks in first and steps aside, and there is nothing to it but offer a neutral "how do you do" with carefully calculated eye contact.

It randomly occurs to Grant that English is the only language in which asking how someone is will not yield a comprehensive answer. He's pretty glad about it right now.

Coulson has a paper bag in his right hand, which he opens to reveal a bottle of wine and a closed food box. The way he scans the place doesn't escape Grant and he tries hard not to bristle. He has over 10 high-end hiding places on every continent - this is still the best and if Coulson knew Skye at all he'd realize this, too. The bristle increases when the man takes it upon himself to go up to the minuscule fridge, open it and peek inside.

Coulson then proceeds to stay there with the fridge door open, letting the cold seep outside. Grant feels like starting to growl. He doesn't, though, because he knows exactly what's going through Coulson's head. His little care package for Skye cannot fit inside the fridge because all the food in there. A special place is given to two bottle of champaign and a plate with some spectacular number of caviar sandwiches. Grant's last trip had taken him to Saint Petersburg, and while neither he nor Skye are snobbish enough to sing praises to caviar for long (its taste is weird, salty and strong, not bad but also nothing to write home about), they had made a fire and grilled some toast to go with it and everything had been glorious in a silly, backwards way.

Now they are all set for an entire week of caviar sandwiches, and Coulson's plan of fatherly taking care of Skye is all but gone.

Grant one, almighty Director of a spy agency zero. Skye saves the moment by taking the - surely hot by now - wine from Coulson's hands, opening it and pouring some for the three of them.

The man sits down at the table at her gesture. Skye positions herself opposite of him. Grant stays where he is, feeling both out of place and vaguely avenged by up the whole thing. He still wants to go up to the table, hug his girlfriend from behind and kiss her on her neck, all while pretending he is being casual and not an in-your-face jerk, but he checks himself. He understands now why Skye chose to meet her father figure here. She could have been a little more polite in asking for Grant's blessing, but leaving that apart? She needs to feel secure, to show Coulson that she's made a good life for herself, and he's more than happy to provide.

"You've heard the news, I take," starts Coulson, and Skye nods.

Everyone's heard. Gifted individuals, Inhumans, freaks. The existence of that damn SHIELD Index is not a secret anymore. Some say the list should be made public. Some say they'll burn the government down if any personal info ends up revealed. Some names in there are of underage kids. Some powers in there can bring the world down. Truth be told, it's not the time to play at animosity. A war is coming, and Grant knows better than to hope they'd get to stay in their little cabin pretending it doesn't effect them at all. He has seen quite many covert wars, but this - this one is going to be open.

"You want me to come back," says Skye.

"War's coming," is the answer. "People will die, and you could help..."

"Help with the dying?"

The man splutters, and Grant feels a bit sorry for him. Skye is capable of extreme and casual cruelty she doesn't always have the control of. Her powers are so inherently destructive, though, she sadly has a fair point.

"I want you to come because we might need your help. There is no saying what kind of intervention might be needed."

"You want me to come so you'll have a gifted to parade around Headquarters, publicly supporting your side, Phil," she says, frowning.

Coulson and Skye continue to almost fight as if he wasn't there, which suits Grant just fine. Skye is way direct, but so is Coulson, who seems to have become both more diplomatic and more forceful during his time as SHIELD Director. They aren't pulling any punches, and conversely this is how Grant knows they love each other still.

It's alright. He wouldn't want for Skye to ever feel for anyone the kind of quiet seething helpless rage he's come to feel toward Garrett.

"You won't be official, if that's what you care about. We'll do it off the record."

"Me being there will be record enough."

They seem in an impasse, but they are not. The fact that Skye is still sitting at the table, sipping her wine, tells Grant that her answers aren't definitive yet. She wants to help. Or course she does. She just doesn't know how. And Grant gets the feeling that Coulson will be spinning this until she's comfortable enough to relent to his idea. Grant finishes his glass of wine. It's warm and cheap, and he's not a big fan of the drink to begin with. Hard liquor is useful, at least.

He's putting his glass in the tiny sink when Skye turns to him, eyes blazing.

"If I went back to SHIELD, would you come back too?"

He lets go of the glass carefully, because he's been a spy for more than ten years and he's above things like letting an object slip from his grasp at an uncomfortable question. Skye has turned her head to him, and behind her Coulson is mesmerized by her audacity. He hadn't been offering to take Grant Ward, the traitor, back on SHIELD payroll - and yet Grant is immediately sure that he'd put up with him if it meant having Skye back.

He takes his mind off Coulson to think back to Skye's question. A war is indeed coming - an overt one, with blood and hate breaking families, colleagues and friends apart. It won't be easy, and it won't be quick. And if Skye goes - she won't be back in a week. It might be, she won't be back ever. And he doesn't - after everything they've been through, he doesn't want to lose her over this. He doesn't even want to think about it. She is quite firmly pro that stupid Index, because she feels too powerful and therefore accountable. He on the other hand has never been scared of super powered folk. He thinks back about something he'd told Skye back in Sharm el Sheik, and while it's been a throwaway comment, it still stands. He can be way more deadly than any Big Bad and Powerful Inhuman on any given day. Anyone can. Learn how to make a bomb off Internet, walk into a crowd. The end.

It's the intent behind actions that counts, and branding certain types of people? Will only worsen said intent.

"Grant?"

She is still waiting for the answer, and he finds that he doesn't need to think at all.

"No."

The word is easy, because it's true. He's never going back. He had been guilty and he had paid, and he has the scars to show for it - the bad kind, the ones that he can't play down as cool veteran's marks, the ones that hint at an internal damage that will never truly go away. He still thinks of Fitz sometimes and wistfully imagines time could backwards, but now he also knows what's done is done, and he has paid in full - in timeless darkness, in nightmares and regret and in an all encompassing, soul chilling pain that has left holes inside him that will never truly close again. He's won his right to walk away and never have to think of it again.

"No?" She repeats. "Are you for real?"

"I'd watch over you, though," he says, not because he feels the need to justify himself, but because it's true. He'll cover her blind spot come bullets, earthquakes or SHIELD.

And Skye, the girl with huge abandonment issues, the one that has been left aside or made abandon her loved ones one too many times, who have rained revenge on these who have wronged her that way, suddenly smiles. A slow, happy and proud smile, as if they both had just performed some kind of one in a lifetime, extreme trick. And maybe, somehow, they just have. Because Grant has just learnt how to say no to somebody he loves, and she has learnt to accept the need for separation.

"This is hardly..." Coulson starts to speak, but Skye silences him roughly.

"We've heard your offer. We'll think about it."

She shows him to the door. Not forcefully, but firmly enough to let him know he won't receive an immediate answer. They say goodbye to Coulson from their little porch, and Skye waves happily at him - all the while visibly leaning backwards into Grant, his hands resting on her stomach and touching the narrow patch of naked skin. He knows that he's being used again, just a little, and contributes by landing several soft kisses on her neck before the engine goes off.

They make their way inside before the SHIELD car disappears from view, and they don't need to talk about what they want to do next. The sex is slow and soft and careful, and weirdly different from what they usually go for. It's fitting, somehow, because today is different. By the time they're both satisfied the sun is setting down and they have both uttered the three game changing, strangely short words Grant never thought he'd get to say or hear in his lifetime. It does occur to him that it is very strange, that the thing that spurs him on is having said "no" to an important, possibly life changing question. Most love confessions are tied with people saying "yes". They aren't like most people, though.

"We truly aren't," butts in Skye, and he laughs a little.

She wants to help, to fight, and for them both to go. He... Honestly, the more he thinks the more he wants to just retire, however improbable that idea is. But even without the retirement, they are in an impasse, their first truly important one. He doesn't know how they'll resolve this, yet, but he's not upset at all.

He knows they will.

And he feels whole.


End file.
